by Sarah Price
“Pretty birds.”
“What?” He glanced over his shoulder at her. When he saw her wiggle her finger at the bird who still sat atop a nearby branch, he nodded. “Oh, ja, definitely. My favorite bird, for sure and certain. God painted that creature with lovely colors, don’t you think?”
She stared at him, startled by his words.
“Blue, so like the heavens, and touches of reddish gold like the sun. Whenever I see them, I think of God and how truly powerful He is.” He turned his head to meet her eyes. “And I realize how truly insignificant we all are. Humbles a man to think that way, to remember that we are here to serve others and not the other way around.”
It took Myrna a minute to collect her thoughts. She tried to imagine one of her brothers speaking with such thoughtfulness and humility. No image formed at all. She gave her head a little shake as if to clear her mind. “I don’t think I’ll look at bluebirds in quite the same way ever again,” she managed to say.
Suddenly he smiled, his face lighting up. “Is that so?”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his eagerness. “That makes you happy, Ezekiel?”
“Hm. I asked that you call me Zeke. That would make me happy.” Almost immediately after the gentle reprimand, the frown disappeared from his face, replaced by a more serene expression. “And I’m not used to people listening to my thoughts like that. Or caring, anyway. So, if my words touch you—perhaps even change you—then I am quite happy indeed.”
Neither one spoke after that, choosing to stand in silence while watching the bird. Myrna glanced over at him, not once but twice, and found herself drawn to the man. There was something subdued about him that made her want to know more. It surprised her that he was such a reflective and thoughtful man, driven by inner thoughts that he obviously didn’t share with many.
She wondered why.
Finally, he took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh evening air as his chest expanded. “Thank you for today,” he finally said. “The house sure looks well-tended, and your meal smelled wunderbarr.”
Appreciation? For what she’d done? Myrna almost didn’t know how to respond. For once in her life, she was speechless.
“Seems the little ones have grown fond of you, too,” Ezekiel said in a low voice.
“I can’t imagine why!” She gave a little laugh. “Had a hard time getting them ready for schule—seems they were more interested in sneaking outside to look for some new kittens.”
He laughed. “Ja, they love those kittens. Never should’ve showed them to Daniel.”
“And they put on quite a fuss when I made them help with the dishes and tidy their rooms. Seems they aren’t very inclined to do ‘women’s work.’”
Ezekiel raised an eyebrow. “Is that what they call it?”
She nodded.
“Hm.”
“Wonder where they learned that,” she said so softly that she wasn’t sure if he even heard her.
But he did.
“Not from me, I can assure you, Myrna.” He pressed his hand against his chest defensively. “I was raised in a family where the men helped the women and the women helped the men. My grossmammi would have taken a strap to me if I had refused to work in the kitchen when help was needed.” He chuckled to himself. “I’ve even been known to hang laundry on the clothesline.” He glanced at Myrna and winked. “I like hanging it rainbow style.”
“Rainbow style?”
“Why, sure thing! All the colors in order . . . black, brown, blue, green, yellow, peach, pink, and then red.”
Myrna laughed at the image of Ezekiel standing on the porch sorting through the wet clothes in order to hang them on the line in a specific color order.
“You think that’s funny?” But he was smiling, too.
“I do.”
“Well, how do you hang your clothing?”
“Like with like, my maem always said.”
He repeated what she had said and then nodded. “Well, Myrna, I can see the reason behind that. Easier to fold when you have all the pants, shirts, and dresses together. Mayhaps I’ll try that sometime.”
Myrna frowned. Wasn’t she the one who would be doing their laundry? She had been planning on washing the children’s clothes tomorrow. Was he already getting rid of her?
“I . . . I wonder about that,” she managed to say. “If I’m working for you, isn’t tending to the washing my job?”
“Ach!” Lightly, he smacked his forehead with his hand. “I reckon it is, Myrna. I just forgot, that’s all. Been doing the wash for so long, it slipped my mind that I don’t have to do it for the time being.”
“Surely your fraa’s schwester did the laundry!” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Myrna’s tongue had wagged before she could stop herself.
“Hm.” He averted his eyes.
Myrna’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him. “Are you saying that she didn’t?”
“I don’t recall saying anything about Linda.” But the way he pressed his lips together so tightly told Myrna that the conversation was a sore one indeed.
“Well, I won’t ask you any more questions,” she said, choosing her words carefully. She could hardly imagine why Katie Ruth’s sister wouldn’t have done his laundry. Surely he was teasing for some odd reason. But then she realized that there couldn’t possibly be any reason to make something up like that. “That’s your story to tell, Ezekiel.”
He looked at her in a reproachful manner.
“Zeke,” she corrected. “Well, anyway, I . . . I best get going,” she managed to mumble, slowly backing away from him as she headed toward the porch steps. “Have a good evening with the kinner.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she hurried to the place where she had propped her bicycle and began her journey home.
Chapter Ten
Even though Edna had just spent the previous Friday with Verna and would see her the following afternoon, she knew that she simply couldn’t wait an entire second day to learn how Myrna had gotten on with Ezekiel and the Riehl children on Monday. Besides, Verna wouldn’t share as much with both Mary and Wilma there, especially after Wilma had teased her so the previous week.
All throughout Monday afternoon and well into the evening, Edna had kept glancing at the clock, wondering if Myrna had returned home yet and shared the day’s events with her mother. Now, on Tuesday morning, Edna found herself distracted beyond belief. She simply had to know what had happened yesterday or she’d get absolutely nothing finished for the rest of the day.
Tapping her fingers against the table, Edna tried to figure out if there was a way to get in contact with Verna. If she called the hardware store, Verna wouldn’t receive the message until later that evening. Without a phone in the house, she’d most likely wait to speak to Edna when she arrived for their knitting circle anyway.
“What was that sigh for, Maem?”
Edna looked up and noticed her son John standing on the bottom step, watching her with a concerned look on his face. “Did I sigh?”
“You sure did.” He held an apple in his hand and bit into it. “Ach! Terrible.”
“Me sighing?”
He held up the apple, his face twisted in exaggeration. “Nee, this apple. I sure can’t wait until autumn when the apple trees are ready for picking. These store-bought apples aren’t near as juicy or sweet as ours.” Regardless of his complaint, he took another bite. “What’s weighing so heavily on your mind?”
Edna couldn’t help but smile. She’d always had a special relationship with her oldest son, John. Somehow, he had seemed to bypass his youth and gone right to being a man. A fine young man who cared more about others than himself. If there ever was a crisis, John was the first to step up and help. And he was handsome, too, with broad shoulders and a thick head of dark blond curls. The fact that, at twenty-five years of age, he was still single shocked Edna. Why! Any woman would be lucky to have him as her husband.
And yet, as far as she knew, he’d never courted
anyone. At least not that she’d heard. He was old-fashioned like that, private and reserved—not like his younger brothers, who had driven many young girls home in their buggies.
“I’m just so curious to find out what happened with Myrna.”
“Myrna?” he asked.
“Ja, Verna’s dochder.”
John held the half-eaten apple in his hand and stared at her. “Oh, you mean that Myrna.”
She knew that John didn’t care for Myrna. They’d met a few times over the years at summer picnics. Clearly, she had left an impression on him, and not a favorable one at that. Edna wasn’t surprised. Myrna’s outspoken personality would not be appealing to John. Or to many other Amish men, for that matter. Still, Edna didn’t like the way he had emphasized the word “that.”
“Ja,” Edna said sharply, “I mean that Myrna. She’s started a new job taking care of Ezekiel Riehl’s kinner and I’ve no way to reach her mother to find out how she fared yesterday.”
John contemplated this for a moment before taking one last bite of the apple. For a few long seconds, he chewed in a thoughtful sort of way. “I know an Ezekiel Riehl.”
Edna’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“From the auction haus, ja.”
She wondered if it was the same man.
As if reading her mind, John added, “His farm’s just south of Shipshe. Came to the auction a few times, most recently with two small boys in tow. Bought a new mule.”
That must be him, she thought. “How well do you know him?”
John shrugged. “As well as anyone can know a client at an auction, I reckon. But he was soft-spoken and patient with those two boys. I remember that. It’s not often young boys come to the auction without their maem along, too.”
Eagerly, Edna pressed him for more. “What else do you know?”
“Not much. But when he bought that mule, I was there in the back. He spoke nice to the animal, unlike a lot of the other men, who act like an animal’s no more than a box on a grocery store shelf.” He grimaced, and Edna pressed no further. She knew how John felt about the animals being auctioned off. He was a bleeding heart when it came to farm animals and the way they were treated. Every evening, he spent well over an hour grooming his own horse, sometimes even walking it a spell to let it graze on the tender spring grass that was just now popping up.
“A man that treats his kinner well and speaks like that to a mule must be a right gut man,” he said as he tossed the apple core into the small tin that Edna kept for compost. “Anyway, I’m headed into Shipshe right now. I could take you to visit with Verna. It wouldn’t be a long visit, mind you. Daed needs me to fetch some oil for the buggy’s axels. But it would be long enough, I suppose.”
Oh! Such glorious news! Edna lit up and stared at her son. Leave it to John to make such an offer. Of her three sons, he had always been the most thoughtful. “Might you take me? Even if I could visit for just fifteen minutes—”
“—your curiosity would be quenched,” he said, smiling.
Laughing, Edna tossed a hand towel at him, which he expertly ducked. “You’re incorrigible.”
John winked at her, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll hitch up the buggy and be ready in ten minutes or so. Give you enough time?”
She gave him a sideways glance before nodding. “That should suit just fine, danke.”
* * *
“What’s this? A surprise visit?” Verna said, her face lighting up as she opened the front door. “Why, the other girls will get plain old jealous, Edna Esh, all this attention you’re paying to me.”
While Edna knew that Verna spoke in jest, she also knew there was some truth in her friend’s words. At least as far as Wilma was concerned. “Mayhaps we can keep it our little secret, ja?”
The house was quiet, and the kitchen smelled like fresh baked bread. Edna took a deep breath, enjoying the warm, yeasty aroma.
“I’ve always loved that smell,” Edna said, feeling a little nostalgic. No matter how many times she walked into a kitchen with the lingering scent of bread, she thought of her childhood. “Funny how it always makes me think of my own maem. She just loved to bake bread.”
“Mayhaps that’s where you developed your love of baking.” Verna gestured to the table, indicating that Edna should sit.
“Oh, I can make cookies and pies just fine.” Edna gave a little chuckle. “But the bread baking gene didn’t get passed on to me.”
Verna shooed away her words with a swat of her hand. “Oh, hush now, Edna. I’ve tasted your bread and it’s just as delicious as anyone else’s.”
Pulling out the arm chair, Edna sat down. “Mayhaps, but it probably took me three tries to get it right.”
Verna laughed.
“I’ve only a short time to visit,” Edna said. “John’s run to town and offered to drop me off. So don’t be making a fuss over me.”
Verna ignored her request as she carried a cutting board with a fresh loaf of bread to the table. “And I’ve some apple butter, too. Just opened it this morning.”
Edna took the serrated knife and cut a large slab from the loaf. “I just couldn’t wait until tomorrow to hear how Myrna’s day went yesterday. Since John was driving this way, I took the opportunity to catch a ride.”
Joining Edna at the table, Verna sat down on the chair opposite her friend. “She didn’t say much when she returned last night, I’m afraid. But she went to bed without supper. Looked plain tuckered out.”
“Oh?”
Verna gave a little laugh. “She’s not used to tending kinner, I reckon. They must’ve run her ragged.”
The image of Myrna chasing after four small children brought laughter to Edna’s lips. “I can only imagine.”
“But she was up bright and early this morning,” Verna continued, “leaving just after six o’clock to cycle over there. I didn’t even have to wake her.”
Edna raised her eyebrows, impressed with this last bit of news. “Now that’s something, wouldn’t you say?”
Nodding, Verna agreed. “Not a complaint or comment was made. She just went about her business as natural as can be.” Picking up a butter knife, Verna dipped it into the jar of apple butter and slathered it over her bread. “Mayhaps she’s a good caretaker after all.”
At this comment, Edna frowned and stared at her friend. “Why on earth would you think otherwise, Verna?”
“She’s never shown any signs of wanting a family of her own,” Verna said. “I don’t even think she’s ever courted anyone.”
Edna wasn’t surprised by that announcement, but she didn’t say as much.
Verna sighed. “And I know that Myrna can be difficult. Opinionated and stuck in her ways. Some might call her a bit . . .” She paused before adding a quiet, “. . . spoiled.”
“Oh, hogwash.” Edna shook her head and clucked her tongue, disapproving of Verna’s comment. “I’m not one to speak behind others’ backs,” she started slowly, “but don’t you listen to Wilma and her talk of your dochder being spoiled.”
“You heard that, then, the other week?”
Edna rolled her eyes and nodded. “Heard it and let it roll right off my shoulders. Just like you should’ve, too. Myrna’s a hard worker, never one to lounge around when there’s something that needs to be done. A bit opinionated, as you say, but her intentions are always good, ain’t so? I’ve no doubt that she’ll be a wunderbarr gut caretaker to this Riehl fellow’s kinner.” She leaned forward and covered Verna’s hand with her own. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have recommended her for the job and soiled my own good name. Did you think about that?”
A grateful smile crossed Verna’s face. “Danke, Edna.”
“Don’t you think twice about it. Why, Myrna’s a compassionate young woman. Anyone can see that. And, mayhaps, this Riehl fellow will see it, too.”
“Edna!”
The surprised expression on Verna’s face made Edna’s eyes widen, just a bit. She hoped that she hadn’t trodden on forbidden territory with her fr
iend. But, to be truthful, Edna had hoped that Myrna might find herself in a courting situation with the widower. It wasn’t uncommon. Why, in the neighboring church district, Bishop Brenneman had helped match Nathanial Miller and Katie Mae Kauffman together, and those two were as unlikely a love connection as any she’d ever seen.
Surely Verna had secretly hoped the same for her own daughter! It wasn’t as if suitors were clamoring to take Myrna home from youth gatherings in their buggies. Sure, she was one of the prettiest girls in the church district, but she was also one of the most outspoken.
“Now, Verna, I can’t say that I haven’t thought a little about it. Haven’t you considered such a thing?”
Verna pursed her lips. “I’m not so certain we should worry about such things. God seems to be the best matchmaker. Best to let Him handle all of that.” She forced a small smile. “Besides, you have your own three boys to worry about.”
Edna laughed, sensing that Verna was on edge about any suggested romance between Myrna and this Ezekiel Riehl. “Oh help! I sure do, don’t I?”
But Verna wasn’t finished. She raised an eyebrow and, with a mischievous smile on her lips, said, “I know! Mayhaps you could marry them to Wilma and Mary’s girls.”
Immediately, Edna stopped laughing. The last thing in the world she would want was to have her sons involved with Wilma’s twin daughters. Their competitive nature—so like their mother’s—would drive her crazy during family gatherings. And she couldn’t imagine any of her boys being remotely interested in them anyway.
“Well, now, I reckon it is time for them to settle down,” she said politely. “But you’re right—mayhaps it’s best to let God help them find their own matches.”
Chapter Eleven
On Tuesday evening, Verna sat on the front porch and enjoyed watching the setting sun. She’d already had supper with Simon and the boys, who were now busy tending to the evening chores.